Daeron the Blood Dragon - Inspired by a Crusaders Kings 2 game
by Carlthereader
Summary: Daeron Targaryen, the second son of King Jaehaerys the first, returns home to westeros after 8 years in exile. The boy who left Westeros, returns as a man wiser, older and a bit more insane. With a dangerous plot to overthrow the royale family the Realm needs men like Daeron, but is he ready? Fanfiction in a very different timeline in 99 AC. Non Canon characters. Enjoy it :)
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note:**

Welcome everyone to my story. This is my second attempt to write a Asoiaf fanfiction. The first one turned out badly, but now I am older and far more experienced in my writing. This story is based on a Crusader Kings: A game of thrones mod game I played recently. It started out as Aegon the Conquer under his quest for the Iron Throne, and so I played on after his death and continued his line.

This will be both a chapter and a family tree. The story takes place in 99 AC, and it does not follow the canon story line. I highly recommend you read the family tree, because the story wont make sense if you don't.

I hope you will enjoy this first chapter.

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Family Tree:

Aegon the First (Died 37 AC)

Children with wife Rhaenys Targaryen (died 10 AC in childbirth)

\- Rhaegar Targaryen (Died stillborn)

Children with wife Visenya Targaryen (died 48 AC of natural cases)

\- King Maegor the Tyrant (Died 64 AC, unknown cause) ruled from 37 AC to 64 AC.

\- Lord Commander Aemon the Unlucky of the Nights Watch. (died 73 AC of old age). Exiled after failed attempt to overthrow his brother to the wall in 41 AC. Elected Lord Commander in 54 AC after the death of Lord Commander Eddarion Stark.

King Maegor the Tyrant children with Corenna Darklyn (death 62 – took her own life )

\- Naerys Targaryen – Stillborn

\- Visenya Targaryen – Stillborn

\- Aerion Targaryen – Stillborn

\- King Jaehaerys Targaryen the Good

\- Daegar Waters (bastard son by unknown mother)

Lord Aemon children with Lucia Tyrell (death 41 AC – executed for treason by king Maegor)

\- Princess Eleana Targaryen – married to Sir Orys Baratheon (third in line to Storms End) - Her children:

\- Sir Aegon Targaryen (kingsgaurd to King Jaehaerys)

\- Prince Aenys Targaryen (betrothed to Lady Cassena Swann).

King Jaehaerys the Good and wife Queen Laena Velaryon – King after his father's death.

\- Crown Prince Aerys Targaryen (30 years old) – married to his sister Daenerys Targaryen – no children yet.

\- Daenerys Targaryen ( 28 years old) (married to the crown prince).

\- Prince Daeron Targaryen (24 years old – not married) – second in line to the throne – exiled to Essos for 10 years due to unlawful relationship with Melissa Lannister. He is the leader of his own free company "The Sons of the Dragon".

\- Bastard son – Baelon Rivers (7 years old).

Bastard line through Daegar Waters:

Daegar Waters (self-proclaimed Goldfyre) - (53 years old – Lord of Harrenhall) Wife – Amma Arryn (died in childbed) – Second wife Maya Tyrell (died in a hunting accident) – Third wife Shae Snow (Bastard from a northern house).

\- Maegor Goldfyre (25 years old – Married to Allice Hightower)

\- - Aelor Goldfyre (2 years old)

\- - Lucifer Goldfyre (2 years old)

\- Aegon Goldfyre (18 years old – unmarried)

\- Maelys Goldfyre (10 years old – unmarried)

\- Maya Goldfyre (4 years old – betrothed to Jonas Bracken, heir to lordship of Stone Hedge)

Kingsguard to Jaehaerys the first:

\- Lord Commander Aegar Darklyn

\- Sir Lancel Lannister

\- Sir Otto Hightower

\- Sir Renfred Arryn

\- Sir Aegon Targaryen (nephew to the king)

\- Ser Theon Grey (lowborn from the Stormlands)

\- Sir Adam Tully

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**Daeron - I**

The green boy had lost his sword just after he had beheaded the slave boy. Neighter of them could have been must older than 13. Daeron saw the fear that was written all over the boys face, and he would have been dead if not for Daeron. The would be killer had nearly got him from behind with a spear, but Daeron had managed to cut him down first. The squire stared at him with awe. "_Thank you Commander… I don't know what happened.._". Daeron knew what the boy must be feeling. He would never forget his own first kill either, yet the boy could not just stand where.

"_Men shit themselves when they die lad, pick up your sword, or you will be the next one_", Daeron scolded the green headed squire, his name already forgotten in the long list of squires serving in the company. Daeron did not have time or the patience for boys, who felt sick at their first taste of battle, and it was out of pure luck that the squire was not lying dead on the grown.

"_Yes Commander, I am sorry commander_". The boy picked up the sword, which he had dropped, from the muddy ground. Still trembling and pale the boy stared down at the corpse of the man, who he had just beheaded a few minutes earlier. "_It was my first kill Commander… I did not expect it to be this _way". The boy called to him, but Daeron had already lost interest in him, he would adapt or die here on the field, that was the way of life.

The same lesson all his men learned, and what he had learned years earlier in the fighting pits. He remembered his brothers words from years past. That was the first time Daeron had ever bedded a whore. "_Life is not a game little brother. It is about time you learn that_", Daeron still felt the beating, his brother had gave him that night, and he would never forget it.

Daeron turned around and walked the other way, his horse dying behind him, and probably countless of his men too, but he would not focus on that, the company was hired to win this battle, so win he they would. The Slave Master of Meereen had payed them well to deal with this little slave uprising. Daeron had grown up with more riches than most in Westeros, and he had never really cared much for either money or materialist. However, Daeron had been a slave himself, had fought in the Slave Pits of Meereen, because of a shit ship captain and a horrible kingsgaurd, who had failed to save him from the slavers, attacking their ship on the journey to Essos.

Daeron looked at the slave army, and he saw the dream of freedom in their faces. "_Come and face me, come and win your freedom_", Daeron shout were carried over the battlefield, the slaves closes to him starred at him for a moment, white fear all over their faces. Cowards, Daeron thought to himself, these are no true warriors. It was known even in Westeros that a war could be one the moment the leader was dead, it would only have to take a very lucky blow from one of them, and the world would be rid of another Targaryen.

War was thrilling and perfect make for him. His men often joked and said he was born to ride on a battlefield, and he would not disagree with them. And right now he had an army in front of him. It was nothing big, the Sons of the Dragon had dealt with greater threats, but still their was a feast of men waiting to meet their end at his sword. Dark Sister the ancestral sword of his family sung a beautiful song, whenever it carved through the air, Daeron had wielded the sword ever since, he was old enough to carry one, and it had never ever failed him. The sword did its duty today as well. Daeron drove through the slaves like they were helm dummies, none of them came even close to match his brutal fighting skills. A slave with some poor piss armor and a morning star rushed towards him. The morning star struck high through the air, and Daeron ducked just in time, so it would not cave in his head. Daeron quickly dashed forward and stuck Dark Sister through the slaves neck. The big bloke sank to his knees, as Daeron withdrew Dark Sister, but two more slaves were over him, before the body hit the ground.

"_I WILL SPLIT YOU IN HALF AND FEAT YOU TO THE PIGS FOR THAT_", the slave on his left roared, maybe it was a brother or even lover to the one he just killed. The slave would have a hard time finding any pigs here, and an even smaller chance to kill Daeron. The pig lover thrust his spear forward at the same time as the one on his right took a swing at his tight with a bloodied axe. Daeron danced out of the spears way, blocked the axe and cleaved it in two, before Dark Sister continued through the mans arm, his right hand found his dagger, which he buried in the spearman's left eye.

More and more men came and replaced the ones who felt. It was the bloody red dragon on his crest, who drew the slaves to him like crows for corpses. Daeron lost all sense of time and place, he had no idea how long the fight carried on for. Once again he just drove into the bloodlust that followed him into battle, and he felt more alive, than he ever would any other place. Battle and killing, leading men into battle, waging war, those were Daerons true strengths.

Daeron came to a pause in the long row of attacks. He had lost count of how many of the slaves, he had killed. Their faces were already long forgotten, and he allowed himself a short moment of rest. The battlefield around him was no longer recognizable. What has been a small dessert camp a few hours earlier had now changed into a burning blood sea. The high walls of Meereen could be seen in the east, and the sounds of waves could be heard from the sea to the east. The sound of the sea was strangely calming. Daeron liked the sea, it reminded him of the road he one day would take home to Westeros.

The battle was at its end, and the sounds of swords clanging, and the screams of the dying men and horses were slowly vanishing. The field was instead filled with an deafening silence of the cries, begging and breathing of the dying and suffering wounded men of both sides. Daeron did not know of their own loses, but he knew his men's strength, and their loses could no be that bad.

"_Prince Daeron, the battle are _over", a voice called out for him from behind. He did not need to turn around to see who was calling for his attention. Where were only one man in the company, who addressed him by his royal title instead of his war rank. Daeron ripped a piece of cloth off the nearest body and turned around cleaning his sword, he had never trusted anyone else with Dark Sister, so he always cleaned it himself. Lord Tybolt Lannister the heir to Casserly Rock. Daerons oldest friend and most trusted general, where working his way through the piles of corpses and dying men towards him. He wore his black red armor and gold cape, matching the colors of his house, and his two-handed great sword was in its scabbard on his back. Daeron was relieved to see his friend unharmed and well. Even through Tybolt was covered in blood and the golden lion on his crest plate completely vanished from side due to the blood, none of it seems to be his own.

"_Well what a shame Lord Tybolt, it would have been a good day to die_". Daeron put Dark Sister in its scabbard around his hip and turned away from the bloody scene around him. Tybolt caught the words, that they had shared as a greeting and battle cry since childhood. "_You are right, my prince, but it is a even better day to live_". They shared a short laugh in the rare moment of rest, before duty called for them again. "_What of our loses_", Daeron was relieved to see the calm on his friends face. "_Nothing too bad, mostly the squires and old men, I have ordered some of the men to collect them and place our loses in one of our tents_". Daeron gave a small nod, it was common knowledge in the company, that his dragon Silverwing had the first right to the bodies of the fallen enemies.

Daeron new horse was handed to him, the one he had rode into the battle had fallen to a brave young spearman. The lad would had killed Daeron if he had only aimed a little higher. That was a mistake Daeron had make him pay for with his life. Tybolt seated himself in his own horse at the same time. "_The men will most surly want to throw a party after this_". Daeron knew his friends were right, and he would allow it. "_They surely will. First we have work to do, we need the field cleared, and send someone we can trust to Meereen to collect our payment_".

His trusted friend turned his horse around, but before they could part ways, his face caught Daerons. "_Will you honor the men with your present in the party tonight Daeron_". Daeron knew Tybolt already was aware of the answer to the question, and he did not fail to notice the lack of his title in his friends question. "_No, Tybolt. Not tonight, but you can send Beska to find me later_". At times Daeron forgot that Tybolt was the twin brother of Melissa, the mother of Daerons child, but whatever he felt about Daerons whore, he hid it well.

Daeron rode off, before Tybolt could have the chance to answer him. The field was slowly been emptied, and Daeron ignored the cries for mercy, when he rode through the lines of men toward the camp. The bloodlust and the adrenalin from the battle was leaving his body, and he needed to rest.

* * *

In the short time after the battle, Daerons men had somehow stocked the larder with vast quantities of boar and deer and stockpiled crates of wine and beer. The company new how to throw a feat, and such a feast was to be enjoyed after a battle. They had been drinking, singing and feasted since sundown, and now many hours later the joy and songs could still be heard all over the camp.

Daeron had not joined them. He did enjoy to drink, quiet a lot actually, but he never feasted with his men. It would not be proper for them to see their loved but also feared commander drunk like a simple fool, because that was, what he truly was right now. He had a taste for wine, and when he first get started on it, he could never stop again, before he would pass out. Daeron did not like to blame himself, he would not blame his father either. No he blamed his exile and the fighting pits for his drunkenness.

The exile had taught Daeron a great deal of things, he would never had learned from some Maester back home. He had learned to lead men and women, fight, and had become a better and wiser man. The boy who had left Westeros nearly 8 years ago were gone from the world. He was not only a father now, he was also a leader. Daeron had never thought he would lead anyone, since he was the younger son, and therefor would not inherit the Throne after his father.

His father's word still rang through his heads, when he dreamed of his home. "_You have overstepped your position to far this time Daeron, Lord Leo will not accept anything else than a hard punishment_", the king the Westerosi had given the nickname "The Good", had been heartbroken, when he had sent his son away but Daeron understood, why it had to be done. He had left the day after on a ship to Braavos alongside its crew and one of his father's kingsgaurd. His young but fast growing dragon Silverwing had followed him too, and unknown to his father, Daeron had also brought two dragon eggs for his son.

The very same dragon had grown into a great beast of a killer, very alike to Daeron himself. He could still hear it crawling around on the former battlefield, feasting on the fallen. It had not been with him in the battle, because Daeron preferred to fight his battles without a dragons interference. Daeron remember he once had explained his reason to Tybolt, whom had come to him after he had spent two years in exile. "_The Targaryen's are too used to have a dragon to back them up, I don't want to be like everyone else. What happens the day Silverwing are killed? I will learn to fight alone_".

And right now Daeron walked along the dead, of cause it was only the corpses of his own men, the slaves was not worthy to lay besides the great men and woman of the company. Drinking he watched the bodies, looking for familiar faces or pieces of clothing or armor that would fit him. The loses were indeed few, but their must have been around two dozens of dead men. A lot of loot if Daeron could find something interesting, it was only fair the death had no use for it anymore.

Daeron was drunk, and that might have been the reason he nearly fell over Big Belly Keith. Daeron mood sank a bit by the sight of the fat man, he had liked him. Keith were one of the better swordsmen in the company, and he could nearly match Daerons own drinking skills. Keith had also earned his nickname, because he was by far the fattest man Daeron had ever met. It still was a wonder he was able to get up on a horse every day. The fuckers have had a hard time killing this one, Daeron counted a least ten different wounds around the body, but the final kill had come from an arrow to the eye. "_I am sorry to see you go my friend, may you outdrink all the gods in the heaven_", Daeron held some of his wine down in Keith open mouth, that way the two of them shared one last drink together.

A corpse a bit to the left caught Daerons eyes. He did not recognize the man, an elder man with a long white beard and grey hair, but he took a liking to the mans shining helmet. "_Hello Whitebeard, I don't remember you, but you can do your duty even in death, and bring your commander a gift_", Daeron knew the man had no way of hearing him, he was long done. His body had been split in half, and the left side of his face was caved in. Daeron thought that some horseshoe probably had run over the man's head after he had fallen. "_Here, let me pay for that helmet, maybe you can buy a new one from one of these other fine lads in the heavens_", Daeron tossed a golden dragon into Whitebeards hand, before he started to remove the helmet from the mans damaged face. It took some work to get it free, and by the time Daeron realized finally lifted it off Whitebeards face it was too ruined to ever fit over his own face.

He moved on reaching once more for the wine sack only to find it empty. Why were the wine always gone so quickly? He tossed the sack to the side, and reached from another one. The first one had been something that had tasted a bit like Arbor Gold, the second one was some piss sweetened with grapes and sugar. Angry at the poor wine he looked around to find something else to grab his attention. Two bodies stuck out to him. The one was of a woman, whose face he remembered as one of the few spear wives from Myr, the other of a young boy. Daerons interest quaked and he walked closer to them, wondering where he had seen the boy before.

The boy heads were resting on the women's breasts. Had they been alive they would probably been in the middle of making love to each other. They boy was the green headed squire, Daeron had saved from a spear under the battle. He had not died well, Daeron saw how a sword had cut his stomach open, and every bit of the boys inside were flooding out of the hole. Daeron sat down and learned back against one of the other bodies, despite himself he felt pity for the young squire.

"_I would offer you some wine lad, but I am all out_". The lad did not answer, as none of the other bodies had. Daeron liked to talk to the dead, they did not interrupt him or lick his ass to get some bonuses. They only listened and stayed silence forever. "_I am sorry you had to die in such a poor battle. No man should be killed by a poor slave unless the slave is a pit fighter_". Having been a slave himself, Daeron had learned to despise both slaves and their masters. However, when it came down to business, a man would have to pick a side, and in this case Daeron had been payed very well to fight for the masters of Meereen once more.

"_I will be honest with you lad, because you have managed to find the most pretty women in this stinking tent. I do not give two shits about the Seven or any other god. Where is only one god, and his name is death_". And that was the god who would come for them all one day. Daeron had been spared today, and he would be spared for many more battles to come, but one day it would be his time to leave the world of the living.

Daeron hoped he would be able to make it home to Westeros, before it was his time to leave this world. "_You know I still love her, Melissa. I want to meet her again, hold her in my arms and fuck her once more_". One day he would return to her and let her meet the son, who she had had to give up shortly after his birth.

Daeron turned around at the sound of footsteps apposing him, but he did not rise from the ground of dead. Only one person in the whole camp would interrupt him here and at this time. She was a beauty, nothing compared to Melissa, but Beska was yet prettier than more whores Daeron had ever met. She gave him a warm smile as she came slowly closer, naked as the day she was born. "_Are you talking to the corpses again my love? What would the men think of you?_". Daeron knew she was only joking. None of his men gave two shits as long as they were payed well enough.

She bend down and began to undo his trousers. "_You want us to do it here_". He was not surprised by it, Beska had a weird taste in locations, and Daeron would have her anyway she wanted. "_You make me a promise the night you stole me. You would fuck me like no other man have ever fucked me from this night and every other night until the day you go home_". Daeron had indeed done that. It had been after their first fight in the pits. He had won but spared her life, and that evening he had sent two slaves to fetch her to his chambers. The slaves have never returned, they were probably dead, but Beska had turned up as naked and willingly, as she was now.

Drunk as he was, he had allowed to forget Melissa for a while. They both knew this affair would only last as long as Daeron stayed in Essos, because Daerons one true goal in life was to return home and marry the mother of his son. It was a promise he had given her many years ago, before greater forces decided to drive them apart.

Dead men tell no tales Daeron reminded himself, and Melissa would never need to know about this. He gave the body of the squire a hard kick, so it ended up facing down. The squire was once again forgotten, now only Beska filled his mind, and he embraced her warmth with a kiss. "_I will never forget that oath. I am a man who keeps his promises_". Daeron kept that promise many times that night, as he fucked Beska in every way a man can have a women, while the corpses stared at them with eyes long departed from this world.…

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**Second authors note:**

Lets have a moment of silence for our fallen brother; Big Belly Keith, Whitebeard, and Squire Green Head. They did serve as good drinking partners for our main character in the very end.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I am sorry if the last bit offended anyone, but that is the way this story will be going, so you are warned now. We will get to know much more of Daeron and his trouble past in this story. Is he insane? No or maybe a little bit. I have not decided it fully yet, but it is said in the books, that every Targaryen is touched by a bit of madness some more than others, and that is the same deal for our lovely Prince Daeron. Next chapter will return us to Westeros, and we will meet First Ranger Brandon Stark of the Nights Watch as the POW. I will try to post it as soon as I can.

Feel free to leave and review, both good and bad. I can take anything you want to throw after me, so don't feel any need to hesitate.

Until next time stay safe and have fun :)

\- Carlthereader


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note:**

Hey and once again welcome. I want to thank you all for the followers and favorites the first chapter got, althrough I know it have been months, since I released it - deepest apologis for that. I hope you will continue to enjoy this story, as we go on - now that we finaly go on.. sorry again.

And I am sorry for this long break, but I completely lost my interest in writing Game of Thrones after season 8 (imo we are still waiting for it the HBO fake season was just a parody right?), but now I am ready to return. This chapter will take place at the Wall and we will be introduced to Brandon Stark, the first ranger of the Watch. I had finished this chapter long ago, but I went back and rewrote it and changed the whole northern storyline for the sake of the story.

I am also looking for a beta reader since English is not my mother tongue, and I would love the story to be as correct and readable as possible.

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**Chapter 2 – Brandon I**

The Old Gods were kind and they were evil. One day they would give and reward it followers, and the next day it would take and punish them too. No one could doubt they were playing a foul game with the men of the Night Watch this first day of Spring. The day before had been a day of celebrating at the Wall, since the Citadel in Oldtown had sent its white ravens to all lords and ladies of Westeros. The ravens, been an welcome and warming sign, was to mark the end of a five year long, cold and devestating winter. They had thrown a great feast at Castle Black, and nearly every man of the night watch had been where to celebrate. Barely a half nights of sleep later, when the early morning sun began to rise, the gods decided to take as they had given. The morning had turned all that joy and celebrating from the day before into a living nightmare for the first ranger. He had been woken at dawn by a white faced steward, and Brandon had known immediately that something was very wrong. Hungover and not yet fully awake he had been led to the lord commanders tower, where he had found the old man murdered in his solar. Brandon had been a man of the Watch for twenty years now. He had first joined the Watch, a young man of nineteen summers, when his older brother's wife gave birth to a heir. Brandon would not have much to do in Winterfell being the third born son, and he had instead went to the Wall to seek honor and adventure. Twenty years had passed, and he considered himself a much older and experienced man, who had seen much and more on his trips to the other side of the Wall.

Brandon had served under lord commander Allard Dayne for all those years. Commander Dayne had been a great friend and adviser to him, since Brandon had joined the Watch. Allard Dayne had served the watch ever since he joined at the age of merely 10 years, after his family came out on the bad end of a rebellion in Dorne, and he had been named Lord Commander after the death of his famous predecessor Aemon Targaryen had passed away in 73 AC. Now Allard was dead too, murdered in the middle of the night, and Brandon was left to get his killers to justice.

"Where were his guards and stewards", Brandon turned away from the body and looked at first steward Garlan, who already have been in the room. It had not been a clean kill, Brandon counted at least fifteen different cuts and stab wounds, and Dayne's genitals have been cut off and forced down his throat by the look of it. The wall was covered in blood, and someone had written "Dead to all crows" on it with the commanders own blood. Anger boiled inside him, this was no way to treat a good and honorable man. "The guards where found death outside, I already have their bodies removed. One of the stewards, Willas from Harroway Town, was found death at the gates to the wall, and we are still looking for the body of steward Loras". So this must have been a group attacking. It was impossible for one person to get away with all of this. Four brothers had lost their life trying to protect the lord commander and one was missing. Something was not adding up, why did the name Loras bother him? With a dreadful feeling in his guts, Brandon realized who the steward was. Loras, also know as brother Loras of the poor fellows, was one out of hundred poor fellows, who have been sent to the wall after King Jaehaerys had crushed their revolt and absolved their ancient order. Not wanting to see Garlans face, he walked over to the body and closed the eyes. "Do you think this can be an uprising of the faith". Not many of the poor fellows, who had arrived in so great numbers, had been able to turn over to the Old Gods, and many of them were not satisfied with their life at the Wall. "No, I do not think that is the case". Brandon turned around to examine the other mans face. Garlan was a good man, who Brandon trusted highly, but he was also from the Reach and had once trained to become a septon of the Citadel. The question was a hard one, but Brandon could not leave any stone unturned, and steward Loras would have had a motive for the murder. Garlan reached for something in his sack around the waist and threw it on the table between them. "This was found on top of the Wall, beside two other bodies". Brandon knew what it was without need of examination. Climbing gear. "This is not good. Garlan this can only mean one thing". Garlan and his eyes met for a moment, both of them had come to the same conclusion. "Wildlings", they agreed with dread and anger in their voices. If the wildlings were behind this murder it could only be the beginning, and Brandon was not sure the Watch was united enough for a wildling invasion. They had lots of work to do, and it had to be done very quickly. Brandon rushed out of the room and began shouting orders to wake the castle and prepare the ravens. Worst of all was the order to the Maester, who had to prepare the bodies for a funeral fire. Brandon already hated this job, but duty and honor came first, and he sworn his life to the duty and protection of the Wall.

The dining hall was a hot mess that evening, it was filled with nearly all of the Nights Watch from the highest ranking members to the newest recruits, and many were forced to stand to eat. Yesterday the hall had been filled with laugher and joy, tonight it was dull and grim. They had burned the Lord Commander a few hours before, and now they were holding one last feast in his memory. The goodbye had not been easy, the man had commanded for nearly three decades, and the Watch would truly never see his like again. Brandon had gotten his usual seat at the high table, which was reserved for the commanders of the watch. It felt strange to sit beside the empty chair of the Lord Commander. They would have to call for a election soon, the Nights Watch needed a commander. Brandon was sure he would be elected, yet nothing was certain and it most likely would be a long and hard vote, before anyone of them was selected as commander. Because of the day events had he not yet found the hunger and strength to touch the bowl of stew in front of him. The ale was left untouched too, he needed to have a clear mind for the coming events. His fellow brothers were discussing the murder of their commander all around him, everyone seem to have taken the news hardly, because Allard Dayne had been a fair and beloved ruler amongst them. Brandon was tired and restless, he had spent the whole morning searching the grounds for clues, examining the bodies, and prepared messengers and ravens to be sent to all over the realm with the news of the murder, and a request for more men and material to be sent to the Wall. Ranger Manfred Umber, nearly as tall and broad as giant, was heard roaring, "I do not believe this to be an act of the wildlings, why now?". People around him turned their attention and for a moment silence felt over the room. Brandon awaited the reactions, for he too did not fully believe it to be an act of the Wildlings. One of the builders, Daemon stronghand, a lowborn son of a blacksmith from somewhere in the Riverlands, was the first to break the silence. "Who would you say did it when Umber", Brandon saw the hate written all over Umbers face, and he feared the worst was yet to come. Umber turned and scanned the room, seemingly searching for someone, when his face lid up, and he pounded his finger at one of the stewards sitting in the far corner of the room. "Those bloody bastards", Umber roared, the man he was pointing at was no other than Holy Borman, another of the poor fellows, "they do not even believe in our gods, and we all know none of them came here willingly". Borman slowly emptied his cup of ale, before he also rose from his seat with every eyes in the room on him. "Aye Umber, I did not choose to come here. That was forced upon me by King Jaehaerys, but I am here, and I serve the watch". Umber glared at him, eyes red with anger, and when laughed. "Who here really trust the words of a goddam priest. I for sure would rather jump of the Wall than follow some shit hole son of a whore like you". Some of the men laughed other shook their heads in disagreement, but one rose up and spoke loud enough for all to hear. "_Brothers we should not fight each other. Umber not all of us came here to the wall willingly, let it rest._" The young man, who had called the heating debate to silence, was his second in command, ranger Raymond Royce, a good lad with a sharp mind. Raymond would make a good first ranger after him, and normally his calm and wise words were enough to stop any fight, but today the gods were against him. Borman, a holy man like no other, who hated whores and their profession like the plague, had clearly heard enough from the drunk Umber. "I would think you know much more of whores than me", he called, a thin smile appearing on his lips, "since you spent every second night with them in Moles Town. Tell me does any of them look like your late wife?". Always expect the worst from drunk men, Brandons father had once told him that, and once more his fathers words were proven correct. Umber, who had lost his beloved wife in childbed, had heard enough. He threw his cup with a great roar across the hall aiming for Bormans head, who managed to duck out of it way in the last second. Borman threw a knife, he had produced from under his cloaks, after Umber instead, but it also missed. And when chaos erupted in the hall. Some threw themselves at Umber trying to bring the giant man down, while others fought against Borman. Some even fought each other for seeming no reason at all. Brandon rose and hammered a fist into the head of some new recruit who came after him, the boy eyes rolled back and he passed out on the floor beneath the high table. Elsewhere blades had been drawn, and Umber and Borman was now hacking away at each other, while the ones around them jumped away to safety. "ENOUGH you DAMM FOOLS" Brandon roared, and in that very second all fighting came to an end. "Raymond take these two and put them in one of the cells,, and someone collect the injured and take them out of hear now". Men all around him sprang to do his bidding, when the Lord Commander, or acting lord commander in this situation, gave an order the men of the Watch acted. The feast was over, no one thought it wise to stay in the hall so they slowly all left. Brandon was the last person left, his stew had grown cold, and he was even less hungry now than before. The Watch needed to stay united for the coming crisis, if they were to get through it alive, but he did not see how that could be possible. Brandon was only sure of two things, one of them was, that he had to win the election and become the new lord commander, and the other was that he would have the worlds hardest job. He swore an silence oath to the gods, before he too left the hall to try and get some sleep. "I swear on my honor and my life, that I will not fail the Watch. I will lead on by your example Allard. I will never forget the things you have taught me". Outside the air was getting warmer, but Brandon was cold as ice inside.

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End of chapter 2. I know this one is a bit shorter than chapter 1, and I promise the next will be longer, but I had a hard time finding the right way to write it and start this storyline. The whole situation at the Wall and the Nights Watch will play a small but yet important part in the overall storyline.

Next chapter will take place in Kingslanding, and chapter 4 will return to Essos and Daeron.

I have left the Stark family tree in this chapter like I had the Targaryen in the last. I wont give a family tree in every chapter and for every family, but I will do it every time it is necessary or important for the story. Chapter 3 is already in the making and will be out soon - and this time I will keep that promise.

Again Feel free to leave and review, both good and bad. I can take anything you want to throw after me, so don't feel any need to hesitate.

Until next time stay safe and have fun.

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**House Stark – Family tree.**

**Lord Paramount Ethan Stark of the North (Dead 90 AC – Married to Lyarra Umber dead 98 AC – ruled the north from 50 ac to his death)**

**Children: **

**Lord Jon Stark (ruled the north from 90 ac to 98 ac – died of winter fever) Married to Meera Forrester**

**Lord Andros Stark (46 year - lord of Moat Cailin – unmarried)**

**First Ranger Brandon Stark of the Night Watch (41 – unmarried)**

**Lord Jon Starks heirs**

**Lord paramount Rickon Stark (Ruler of the north, 23 years of age, married to Joanna Lannister)**

**Lord Jorah Stark (14 years of age – Married to Allice Karstark – no issue)**

**Rickons children children:**

**Rodrick Stark (2 years of age – not yet betrothed)**

**His twinsister Arya Stark (2 years of age – not yet betrothed)**

**Eddard Stark (not yet betrothed – newborn)**


End file.
